


Babylon

by mssrj_335



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Gen, King of Hell Sam, M/M, Present Tense, Sastiel - Freeform, Short One Shot, Winged Castiel, smutless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Angsty timeslice.  Sam takes the throne of Hell and begins an apocalypse of his own.  Castiel can't resist him, though he tries





	Babylon

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend listening to Bible by Ghost while reading (or any of their stuff). It's beautiful, apocalyptic, and gives me major King Sam feels

_It shouldn’t have happened this way._   It keeps repeating in Castiel’s mind: _it shouldn’t have happened.  How did it happen?_

 

The world is on fire around him; smoke and silence punctuated by eerie screams in the dark.  Castiel casts around him.  Humans and angels are piled atop each other, desecrated.  Hundreds of wings are burned into the ground.  Who would have summoned him?  No one, no one, no one left—

 

“Hey, Cas.”

 

The angel takes a sharp breath he doesn’t need and whirls.  He slashes, dives forward at that familiar voice.  Yellow eyes and a sweet smile taunt him from the shadows.  He’s not fast enough.  

 

“Is that any way to say hello?” Sam asks, askance. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.  You were my friend."

 

“You are no friend of mine,” Cas snarls, following the yellow eyes in the dark.  He dives, thrusts his sword forward.  Nothing but dense, curling fog.  

 

Sam chuckles softly from behind.  Castiel brings his sword up and down.  Nothing again.  _How?  Is he to be bested by this_ boy _?_

 

“Ouch, Cas.  That hurts, you know.”  Sam’s voice fills the air around him.  “I did this for you.”  Frissons of cold desire tingle through Castiel’s wings, feathers standing on end.  He lashes out with them, feeling Sam brush the ends.  Touch soft, barely there.  “For all of you…”

 

“How could you do this?” he shouts. “All those people, Sam!  This isn’t what I wanted—what _you_ wanted!”

 

“No one trusted me.  You betrayed me!  You left me no choice!"

 

Castiel isn’t sure if Sam means all of them—Dean, Cas, Bobby, his father—or just Castiel himself and he doesn't have time to dwell on it.  Sam appears before him and Castiel charges forward, desperate for the end.  Surely, if he can destroy his friend, it will end.  Sam catches his sword arm and holds him firmly in place.  

 

Castiel is desperate, but not enough to do what must be done.

 

“Your brother—” he tries, sagging minutely.  

 

“My brother is safe.  At least, he is now,” Sam murmurs, his yellow eyes growing soft even as his grip tightens.  “This is how it had to happen.”

 

Castiel fights to regain his stance; futile.  He searches Sam’s eyes for some reason, any diffidence, but there is none.

 

“Why?” he begs.  

 

“You knew it yourself: God isn’t giving the orders anymore.  The angels were losing, humanity failing.”  Sam’s voice is low, soothing.  “This was the only way, Castiel.  We couldn't let Lucifer out of the box but something had to be done. Can’t you see that you’re lost?  You need guidance.  _They_ need guidance.”

 

The angel shivers.  “No…”

 

“Yes.” Sam’s voice turns sibilant, his jaw clenches.  “They took my mother, Jess, my friends, my brother—”  His words stumbles slightly.  Castiel swings his fist toward Sam’s cheek, if only to make him stop.  Sam catches his wrist and forces it down.  He dips his head, holds Castiel’s eyes; earnest.  “I couldn’t let them take you, too.  I couldn't stop them any other way."

 

“But what about _the_ _world_?”  Castiel can feel the ache building in his being.  His resistance is crumbling.

 

“It was save some or save none,” Sam replies softly.  His grip forces Castiel to his knees.  The ground is wet, cold.  His wings drag the fog in submission.  “You realize that, don’t you?”

 

Silence.  

 

“You know I’m right.”

 

Castiel stares up, eyes damp.  _Maybe…_

 

“Sam, this—this world…it was not supposed to burn.  We were going to stop the Apocalypse without this destruction.”

 

"It won’t burn,” Sam declares.  The surety in his voice pulls Castiel’s body forward against his will.  “I have the throne, I can make it stop.  Everyone will be safe.  I will even spare the angels, if they join me.”

 

Castiel’s lips part as fire and power spark on Sam’s tongue. 

 

“You served this…Babylon, but it’s falling.  I _made_ it fall.  It’s an open sore, festering beneath gilded walls.  You could help me rebuild it.”

 

Sam’s words are soft, enticing.  It has been long since Castiel had such a purpose.  This could be his chance.

 

A new beginning...

 

 

 

Abruptly, Cas jerks his wings back.  He pulls free of Sam’s hold and takes flight, hovering in the air above.  Indecision threatens to paralyze his wings as he stares down.

 

“Will you pray for the world, Castiel?!  For Babylon?” Sam shouts after him.  “What good will it do?  Help me save them!  God, Lucifer—they would destroy the rest of them, but I won’t!”  

 

For a moment, Sam looks desperate.  In the gloom, the fearful lines on his face grow darker.  Something stirs in Castiel and he almost lands again.

 

“I need you!” Sam cries, reaching high.  “Please…”

 

Cas shakes and disappears, flying as fast as he can from temptation.  Sam’s face haunts him, his words burrow into Castiel’s being.  He tries to stop the growing stain of despair.

 

He fights.

 

And he fails.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel is in a battle he cannot win.  Demons surround him.  Blood and grace leak steadily from the wounds inflicted upon him.  Years of war shrink his siblings’ ranks and there are no angels left to save him.  Even the human resistance has disappeared.  Abandoned him.  

 

 _Like Sam._  

 

Left him to die.

 

_Like Dean._

 

Perhaps today he will die.

 

He hears the demons chatter around him, hears the summoning before he truly registers it.  The sky above, scorched dark at the beginning of the end, starts to glow.  He is bathed in fiery orange light as the demons wait with bated breath.  Cas closes his eyes and his wings slump.

 

Sam appears in a crack of thunder, but Cas can’t bring himself to open his eyes.  He can only flinch.  With one motion, Sam banishes the demons and steps closer.

 

“Cas—”

 

Castiel opens his eyes and stares.  The King of Hell is crying.  His lip quivers and Castiel’s knees shake in response.  His power, his rage, and his anguish permeate the air.  

 

“Let me help you,” Sam murmurs through his tears.  “Join me, and I can save you.”

 

Cas draws his brows together and Sam steps forward.  He caresses Castiel’s bloodied hand.

 

“It’s over, Cas.”

 

Castiel can feel the grip on his sword loosening.  His wings drag the ground.

 

“It’s not too late.  There are still so many we can save,” Sam says.  “You bowed before Babylon, you fell for them, and it did nothing.”

 

Castiel feels a tear slide down his bloodied cheek.

 

“God has forsaken you, but I won’t.  Bow before me and show the others that I can be merciful.  We can save them.  I don’t want to do this without you.  I don’t think I can.”

 

As before, as the beginning, Castiel falls to his knees.  The ground is still cold beneath his knees.  Wet.  

 

Dead.

 

Whether true or not, Castiel didn’t know.  But Sam is right.  The world is falling.  Spinning.  A waste.

 

Cas stares up at Sam and sobs.  There is no other way.  At this point, he isn't sure if he would take another way.  Sam's heat entices him like a clarion call.  Safe, warm, welcoming.

 

“Do you swear to spare them?”

 

Sam presses his lips to Castiel’s and strokes his temple.

 

“I swear.”

 

He has no resistance left; Castiel bows his head.

 

 

 

_“I surrender.”_

 


End file.
